Datura's little box
love the aesthetic of this theme
very pretty

"Hey Tom," A voice shouted from across the greenhouse.

"Yeah?" Another voice echoed back.

They stood in an overly large greenhouse surrounded by flowers of brilliant hues and a multitude of green leaves. "How do you know this place even has the flower you're looking for?" Tom looked at his hands. They were caked with dirt and stained with a variety of flowery dyes. "I know it's here, I planted it." He gave a little cough, the shouting was certainly not good for his throat.

The years had not been kind. The last he stood here, it was a beautiful blooming metropolis. Now it stood a kingdom of overgrown vines and pods. And despite the eerieness of it all, it seemed to retain more life than he did.

"I think it was just past the jimsonweed," Another cough came, a little more violent this time. "If not, It could be by the innoxia." He used to come here as a child with his father. The wonder brought from the stems always lingered with him, even after he had grown up and left. The awe stayed.

"Big red flower right?" His helper seemed to know little about what the world was keeping from her. He was lucky anybody still cared for him at all. He just wished he could give her something for dealing with him. Even just a little reimbursement would be nice. Charity work always seemed too kind of a gift compared to the world he grew up in. With all the double-faced agents and drug dealers, even a little kindness seemed shifty. Now it just seemed unfair.

"Yeah, big red flower with wine edging." He passed a bed of overgrown orchids. His wife always loved orchids. The colors, the petals, the way the roots always stuck to the pots. He sighed. His wife did love watching him struggle with those pots. Her laugh did always seem to shake the roots loose. He wondered if she could see him now. A crotchety old man alone in an old greenhouse.

"Hey! I think I found it." The small cry could barely be heard over Spanish dagger and Echium. It was amazing that plants like that could even grow under a single roof. Not even mentioning the size they scale to when left to their own devices. The hothouse always seemed to support life in unnatural ways. Out of the way, it was a wonder that it used to receive any attention. But here it was, in its little universe.

He passed saguaros, honeysuckle, pond lilies, and hemlock. Somewhere along the way, he took a wrong breath and had a little coughing fit. Not that it was anything new, it just slowed him down as it usually did.

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